Hump Day a day late
And a loose "Placement" prompt
I didn’t finish this post last night, but not wanting to rush it, I decided to finish it up this morning.
Happy Wednesday!
Our youngest daughter is home for Spring Break and of course my sleep schedule is off. Ha!
Yesterday we went thrifting, ordered Chinese and binged a few episodes of The Traitors and The Residence, which was quite fun. I found myself cackling quite a bit and it was a fun departure from my usual horror/dark psychological thrillers.
She is of course, still asleep. My husband is already at the restaurant prepping and it is just Elliott (Meow!) and I haunting the downstairs. I am still reading issues of Hanging Loose in between reading other pieces and editing. I am reading Deborah Boe’s, Mojave. It is a snapshot, 87 words. A recollection of the author (maybe) at the age of 15. It is short and sweet. Just a little bite, and by that I mean not too heavy, but matter of fact, “My grandparents. used to earthquakes, go on planting trees.”
And it made me think of a story my dad likes to tell about when we went to go visit relatives out in the sticks of Illinois when I was a toddler. They had a farm out in St. Anne, IL and everyone was sitting around outside and I disappeared. Come to find out I wandered into a corral and wrapped my arms wrapped around the leg of a Holstein bull. Of course, everyone was freaking out but trying to keep me calm, and I was unbothered. Eventually, my dad coaxed me away.
I somehow remember the ride out there, but not that event. And when he told me the story again, just a few minutes ago, I could see it. Taste it. And wanted to write it down, even if not exact, a snapshot. I forget; even though I write micros, that even memories, don’t have to be drawn out. Intimidating. Especially when they are fuzzy. No need to stress out, trying to fill in the blanks. Bring the flesh together. If it doesn’t quite meet, stitch it as you can. Create, improvise, and make it fiction. It can be about you without having all of you.
So there is your prompt:
Pick a childhood memory of a place. Were you on vacation? Carwash? Maybe the playground or backyard. Try to pick a memory that makes you smile or flinch.
Then, write around you.
Sky? Forget the color. Is it cloudy or clear? Is there a bird? If not, pick one. My favorite is a tie between the Turkey Vulture and Grackle.
How old were you, or thereabouts? What are you doing at the moment or what did you usually do in that place when there? Dig holes? Run to the candy aisle? Play on the swing? Complain?
Write what’s around you again. A row of houses? The ocean? Zoom in. Do you see anyone in the water? Anything in a window? If not, place them or it there.
You get the idea. It doesn’t have to be much, remember Mojave? 87 words.
